


Paradise

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Deepthroating, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in paradise there's sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise

Sin was a reality to be reckoned with. Everybody agreed it was a departure from the proper order of things. The Valar had revealed to the Eldar the One's will, setting before their eyes the proper conduct intended for them, replacing the much laxer customs the Quendi had adhered to in Cuiviénen. For some Vanyar, merely doubting the Valar's words was blasphemy. The Ñoldor were less drastic: thoughts weren't necessarily damning, it was actions which made a difference. 

Kneeling naked in front of your son-in-law, mouth open to let him fuck it, very likely surpassed all definitions and exemplifications of sin anybody in Valinor had ever conceived.

The problem, as far as Mahtan was concerned, was that there was sin, and then there was Fëanáro, and whatever rules the Valar could have laid out had the same effect as hammering on a piece of cold iron in the face of his mere presence. 

Fëanáro's cock hit the back of his throat and Mahtan willed it to relax to let him go even deeper.

He should have never let it get to that, of course. He had loved him innocently at first, truly chastely, as a father. Fëanáro was the brightest mind he had ever nurtured, and would ever nurture, and being the one to whom the task of seconding its development had fallen had tickled his pride and filled his days with liveliness and unbounded joy. But that mind resided in a body, which had grown in time, and to that body he had become attracted, too. And how should he have been able to resist after having Fëanáro smile at him, after feeling the heat of Fëanáro's sweaty skin under his palms, after seeing Fëanáro naked, exhausted but gleeful after a day of hard work? Even his self-possessed, judicious daughter hadn't been able to.

Fëanáro, who had no notion of sin (and no use for one), who was as confident in the capacities of his body as he was in those of his mind, and who was perfectly conscious of the allure of both, had laughed when Mahtan had first confessed his yearning to him. Mahtan's voice had cracked then, while his hands hovered around Fëanáro's face, trembling like he was afraid to break something invaluable. (And then Fëanáro had turned his head and kissed his palm, and it had been a burst of ecstasy.)

It would have been easy – comforting even – to lay the full blame for his transgression at Fëanáro's feet, but temptation lay within the heart of the tempted, and it was so petty to forswear responsibility like that that he always ended up chiding himself for even entertaining the possibility.

Those futile thoughts never stopped Mahtan from kneeling, and turning himself over to Fëanáro's pleasure, ready to indulge him in whatever way he desired. 

Fëanáro's fingers massaged his scalp as he found a rhythm to his thrusts. Mahtan could now take his cock almost without gagging, though the small choked sounds that escaped his stuffed mouth pleased Fëanáro just as much as the wet caress of his tongue and throat.

He could see it in his eyes. The pair of ravishing gems into which every shade of grey seemed to have been mixed were riveted to his face and sent waves of heat to his cock. A caress couldn't have been more fiery, or more arousing.

His hands rested on his own thighs, itching to touch – himself or Fëanáro, it was the same – but they never did without Fëanáro's express consent. 

Fëanáro's right hand, coarser now than it had been when he had arrived to Aulë's Halls, marked by years of exercise and work and the inevitable little accidents, cupped his jaw, and his thumb slipped into his already stretched mouth.

“You're oozing so much,” he susurrated, taking his thumb out and bringing it to his own mouth to lick. “You want to be inside me?”

Mahtan nodded, moving his tongue around Fëanáro's shaft at the same time.

Fëanáro bit on his lower lip, jerked his hips forward, and his balls slapped against Mahtan's chin, scraping lightly on his beard.

“In a little while, okay?”

Mahtan nodded again, sticking his tongue out to lick Fëanáro's cock as it retreated. He took a deep breath before Fëanáro came forward again, and sheathed himself so deep inside his mouth that Mahtan's nose was buried in his pubes. Mahtan uttered a strangled moan – every time he struggled to draw what little air he could in through his nose he was engulfed by Fëanáro's most intimate, most personal scent, by him, and though his eyes began to water the longer he stayed like that, he would rather have choked than drawn back.

When Fëanáro finally pulled back, Mahtan's face was a mess of spit and tears and sweat. A pearly thread of precome linked his mouth to the tip of Fëanáro's cock. 

Fëanáro took deep breaths – Mahtan avidly watched his chest heave and ripple at every intake of air, even as he did the same – and remained still. After long, throbbing heartbeats, Fëanáro tilted his head to one side, untrammelled delight dancing in his eyes. “Well?”

Mahtan knew what was expected of him. He bent forward, sucking Fëanáro's precome into his mouth before laying a kiss on the tip and brushing his lips down the shaft. He traced the base with his tongue then swung it back up to the tip. He mouthed it again, and began to move his head up and down, slowly, covering every patch of skin on the hard shaft with his lips.

“You can use your hands too, you know.”

The words, uttered in a hoarse whisper, had no sooner left Fëanáro's mouth than Mahtan had laid both palms on Fëanáro's buttocks, feeling that maddening burst of fire under his fingertips again as they kneaded the firm flesh, while he kept fucking his mouth on Fëanáro's cock.

Fëanáro hissed loudly, then his breathing hitched. The uprush of orgasm vibrated through his body, and forcefully reverberated in Mahtan's too. Fëanáro's seed shot into his mouth, hot and heady, but Fëanáro withdrew halfway through and the last spurts of it fell on Mahtan's nose and cheek, from where they trickled into his beard. 

He would have been ready to follow, but Fëanáro shook his head once. He knelt above Mahtan and lowered himself until his weight hovered desperately close to his neglected erection. Mahtan's breath came out of his lips and nose in short, gasping puffs. Fëanáro bent and calmly started licking his own seed from his face. Mahtan clutched him tightly, his hands sliding to the crack of his ass, brushing over his opening, already oiled and so so ready for the taking.

“Please,” he begged.

Fëanáro's tongue glided across his cheek to his ear, then he pulled back to look into his eyes, and smiled. “Do it.”


End file.
